Changing Regrets
by Resacon1990
Summary: Peter always wondered what his biggest regret was... it took the Civil War to find out.


**Warning: Super Angst, Drama, Major Character Death.**

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People used to ask me what my greatest regret was, my worst nightmare, the most horrendous thing I'd ever lived through.

I never knew what to say. I never knew whether to say that it was the time I fell out of the tree in the park and broke my arm, or whether it was the time Harry and I had our first huge fight, or when MJ and I broke up followed by her death, or when I replaced her with Gwen, or when Deadpool… Wade and I had a small thing that lead to a fight with my parents that left every other superhero actually fearing for our family.

But now? Now I know what it is.

The Civil War.

That is my biggest regret, my nightmare, the horrendous thing people had asked about too many times to count.

My parents had been split, Pops lead the Antis, and Dad lead the Pros. I had been torn when this was all happening, not having revealed who I was to anyone yet. Nobody at the time knew Peter Parker and Spider-Man was the same person, and I'd hated it for the most part. The Peter side of me, the normal side had craved for my Dad, wanted to stay by his side where as the Spider-Man side had yearned to fight with Pops, to get a taste of what a rebellious super hero was like.

Maybe this weird personality split thing had stemmed from the speeches at the start? When they'd taken turns to preach their views to the entire super hero community. They'd told me to stay behind, both trying to keep it together to make it appear like we were still some over the top happy family. But Spider-Man had been expected to turn up right? I'd listened to them both, agreed with them both, had even wished they'd listen to each other and stop what had been about to happen.

And when they'd all started taking sides, I'd ran.

Peter Parker had stayed with his Dad. Spider-Man had gone and left with his Pops.

I'd known they would've kill each other if they could, both had been so lost in their rage and hate for one another that they hadn't been able to see anything else, they hadn't seen what they already had and what they could've looked forward to, anything. Super heros and mutants had been dying everywhere around them, but all they could see were each other as they'd fought tooth and nail. I'd hated standing by my Pops at those times, hated seeing them glare at each other with hints of regret flicker in the depths of their eyes. I remember hearing Wolverine comment that they "are just like X and Maggie" at one point, although I had no idea what it had meant at first. Not until someone had explained it later.

Despite this, I'd taken it upon myself to help. I was Peter Parker and Spider-Man right? I would stay with my Dad, learned everything I could from him and then, in a manner of speaking, I would betray him as Spider-Man. I had told my Pops enough to foil Dad's plans time and time again, but it'd only ever been enough to keep them alive another day. And I had done the same as Peter Parker for my Dad. I didn't want them to die, I didn't want them to kill each other, knowing they'd regret it for the rest of their lives.

But then I'd been wounded, wounded badly, by Deadpool of all people, harshly enough to collapse on the battle field with my mask down around my neck, a hole having been ripped right through it. I vaguely, very vaguely remember seeing the stunned shock on everyones face as they recognized me, the mastermind behind both sides that helped the leaders in their struggles, the son of said leaders. Even Deadpool…Wade had stripped off his mask and stared at me with those horrified brown eyes, my name forming on his lips. I clearly remember seeing the pale faces of my fathers, seeing rather than hearing the agonized scream from my Dad as he'd tore through the crowd towards me and the clattering of a shield as Pops dropped beside me with tears in his eyes, his hands shaking as he'd tried to apply pressure to my wound.

I remember briefly wondering if my death would bring them together.

Of course, things aren't that easy are they? I wouldn't be left in a haze of mystery about what my death would do to them, whether they'd hate each other more or break and end the war to seek each other out. Instead I would be forced to watch it in snap shots as I fazed in and out of consciousness in the hospital.

The first time I'd woke was to see them standing there, both bloodied and bruised although Dad had been missing his armor. Their faces had been pale, their bodies trembling and I'd seen the anguish clearly in their eyes. Seeing Dad turn to Pops though, tears trekking down his face, and Pops dragging him into a embrace as they'd sobbed, had made me feel a tinge of happiness through the fog before I'd left it all behind again.

The second time I'd opened my eyes briefly was to see them arguing, both snarling at each other and it'd taken me a long moment to realise what it'd been about. Pops had been, for once, disagreeing with his Anti stand, saying that if they'd had all of us registered then maybe they could've kept me out of this mess completely. I remember wishing I could snort at that. And Dad had been rolling his eyes and muttering something about if I had registered, then they would've stopped me. And no matter how hard he didn't want to admit it, Spider-Man was one of the best. I'd felt pride well up in me as Pops agreed and the two turned to look at me, barely seeing my open eyes before they'd closed.

The third time consisted of seeing my Pops fast asleep, his head resting on Dad's shoulder as Dad had combed fingers through his hair, his other hand tightly holding mine. He'd looked at me, the small smile on his face not reaching his eyes as he'd whispered a "Hey Buddy" and squeezed my hand. I still don't know what happened next, but my mouth must've worked enough for a question to form because Dad had kissed Pops forehead and whispered a gentle "maybe" under his breath.

The fourth had been horrible, watching my Dad sob uncontrollably in my Pops arms, mumbling something like "my fault my fault" over and over again. I'd felt my own heart break as Pops had caught my eye, a sad smile had appeared on his own face as he'd whispered a greeting. The last thing I'd seen was Dad's desperate face screaming at me to stay awake as Pops tried to calm him down.

The fifth had almost made me cry if I could've, seeing Dad and Pops with their heads together writing a speech declaring the end of the war, and that they'd agreed on destroying the registration act. I'd thought that was it then, that I was either going to die or live, now that what had been wrong had been rectified. Maybe the torture would end, and the way the two had looked at me with resigned looks, both too tired and exhausted to do more than hold my hand together, I'd known that it wasn't just for my sake that it should've been.

The sixth, and last time I'd ever woken up, was for longer than any time previously, enough time for me to have witnessed Dad and Pops re-confessing to one another, admitting they still loved each other, and I know for a fact a tear had rolled down my cheek and a sob must've come out of my mouth because they'd both been instantly at my side, both calling my name, screaming for a nurse or doctor, demanding for me to stay awake. Dad's continuous lines of "I love you" and Pops "Peter, you're perfect" had been enough to know they'd known it was futile, that I was… leaving. Pops had pulled me up, tugging out a few tubes I hadn't realised were attached, and dragged both me and Dad into a tight hug, all of us had been crying, all of us had been wishing it wasn't true.

It was the perfect death in a way. No pain. No blood. Only tears and gentle words as I'd died in my parent's arms. I feel regret now, knowing I've probably destroyed them, but knowing they've reaccepted each other, love each other, are there for each other is enough.

I don't know where I am now. I can't see anything or anyone. I can't do much. Sometimes the occasional person pops up, like randomly seeing Goliath walk towards me had been a shock, knowing he'd died in the war, but he'd just smiled and disappeared.

Sometimes I wish to know whats happening to them, where they are and what they're doing. But then I think that maybe it's good to be a mystery. Maybe I don't want to know.

But I still cling to the hope they're together, that they learnt something from my death.

That they learned from my regrets.

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**So, this is my first Avengers story, and frankly I have no idea where to put it. It's based during the civil war, with the comics, but there is certain elements from the movies? Gahh! BOTH OF THE AVENGERS FANDOM THINGS!  
**

**And anyway, its superfamily :D**


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